


Unredeemed

by Aryblack



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, Drama, Fluff, M/M, Mentions of Amy Dyer, Original Character(s), Pale Wars, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Romance, second rising, zombie boyfriends
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-23
Updated: 2017-09-23
Packaged: 2019-01-04 14:05:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12170388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryblack/pseuds/Aryblack
Summary: (Translation of my own fic) Life goes on after Amy Dyer's death and there are some problems to face.





	Unredeemed

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Unredeemed](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10988028) by [Aryblack](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aryblack/pseuds/Aryblack). 



> Yes, the summary sucks, apologies. Basically I'm writing this because I can't get over the series cancellation and I'm bitter, these series are far too good to let it die like this, therefore here I am to ruin it with my own version of a 'third season'. I'm writing it originally in Spanish, so this is my own translation. I hope it's not too bad, let me know. Please don't forget to comment at the end, it helps a lot! (And thanks for reading ;) )

CHAPTER 1. STAIRWAY TO HEAVEN

 

The sound of a fox mating call in the middle of the night broke the silence in the quiet Roarton . It had been a long day, with the funeral and Amy's wake party, and Kieren was too tired to do anything else than going to bed. Sometimes it was weird to be dead and still needing to sleep. It wasn't that his body needed the rest, it was more psychological than physical, maybe it was his mind or his brain the ones that needed to rest to repair the damaged death had caused, but truth was he had fallen asleep the moment he hit the pillow.

A noise coming from the window woke him. Kieren stayed quiet and listened, thinking he might have been dreaming. Nothing, besides the usual nocturnal noises, the occasional owl, the soft murmr coming from the road, not far away from there. And suddenly, that clicking noise against the window glass again. For a second, Kieren wondered whether he was still dreaming, if, once he walked to the window he'd see Rick waiting for him with a bottle and a grin. Before the third pebble hit the glass, his door suddenly opened.

“No”, Jem said, her Colt ready, completely awake and alert; it was pretty obvious she hadn't gone to bed. She approached slowly and peeked out, supposing those rotters from the graveyard could appear anytime, suspecting they had something to do with his brother but still not knowing what. She huffed and lowered the gun. “It's Simon. Could you tell him to knock on the door at normal times? You know, like normal people. You should pay more attention to courtesy rules, it's not Living Dead Lovebirds Time”, she grunted, rolling her eyes. “Take the phone. And dad's bat”, she added before leaving.

Kieren sighed, walking to the window and nodding to Simon, before changing his clothes quickly and running downstairs. It was cold, he guessed while he buttoned up his thick coat; it was almost Christmas and the fact that he didn't feel the cold didn't mean he couldn't suffer frostbite. Once out, he locked the door softly while he took a deep breath, as if he could still almost smell the snow in the air. 

“Let's walk”, he murmured softly while they moved away to avoid waking anybody up. Simon looked worried and anxious and kept his eyes away from him, and in the meantime they walked down the street and turned right. Kieren measured the option of heading to the graveyard, but the idea of being near the graves at those hours didn't make him feel too good. He still had nightmares of that night, years ago, fighting to get out of his coffin once achieving it, seeing his name on the gravestone. Instead of that, they headed to the open field and he felt exposed and defenceless. What if someone from the HVF was on patrol? Gary wouldn't hesitate a second before killing them once and for all.  
“I had to talk to you”, said Simon finally, still walking. He was still avoiding looking at him. He seemed to be measuring his words, trying to decide where to start, or what speech already written in his mind to use. He looked defeated and, in a way, terrified. “You know about the ULA, right? The Undead Prophet-”  
“Simon, if at this point you want to start talking about the ULA-” Kieren intervened. “Look, I know. The Blue Oblivion Gary used on me was yours. I found it in your room and I hid it. And all that crap stays away from us, you promised. I hope you weren't lying and we stay away from the ULA.”

Simon shivered and shook his head, staring at the floor, and Kieren followed his eyes to the other's feet. It was dark and the muddy ground was soft. He didn't want to think on the wet soil and how easy it was to break through, so he blocked that memory and waited.

“Kieren, it's all connected. My main mission was to find the First Risen, that's why I gathered our people, that's why I've been doing interviews. Telling our experiences to each other helps overcome it, to accept it, to accept us, but what I was doing all along was to collect information. After hearing how you rose, I told the Prophet it was you.”  
“Why would you say I was the First?”  
“Kieren, at your place, you told them how you got to the surface and listened to clock chiming, you, alone in the graveyard, no one else. I didn't stop to think the Prophet would seek to have the First killed, not in a thousand years. I would have never thought he'd ask that, I would have never opened my mouth!”  
“Is that why the others were waiting at the graveyard? Were you going to sacrifice me there!?”

Kieren's confusion led to anger and soon it turned into a vicious rage feeling while Simon was still avoiding to look at him, regretful, waiting for him to explode.

“At least have the decency to look at me!”, he shouted, infuriated.  
“That was the plan”. Even with limited light, Kieren knew that Simon had never looked that vulnerable, and the pleading inflection of his voice made his anger fade all of a sudden. “I couldn't, Kieren. I couldn't kill you, and you're in danger. I tried to tell you during the wake, I need you to leave Roarton. I'll take care of you, I promise, I'll make sure nothing happens to you.”  
“I don't need a bodyguard.” He snapped, but his tone seemed to tense the other even more. Simon was still waiting for his rage, expecting to clear his conscience no matter how hurt he got. Softly, Kieren continued. “Simon. I'm tired of hiding, and if they don't hurt me they might hurt someone else, anyone else. They brainwashed Maxine Martin with that thing about the Second Rising, and look what happened to Amy. It's a matter of time someone else loses their head and hurts somebody, no matters where.”  
“I'm not leaving.” Simon shook his head and glanced at him for a second. “Not, unless you want me to.”

Kieren realised he was even tired of being angry.

“Come home.” He said. Before Simon could protest, he added. “I don't care you think it's not safe, it's dangerous anyways. My sister has a Colt and she's a light sleeper. Besides, everybody knows where Amy's bungalow is, how can you be sure they don't have a copy of the keys?”

Simon sighed.

“I don't want to be a burden.”  
“You will if you go back there and you leave me all worried all day. Look, my parents like you, they won't say a thing. And it's not like they had to feed you.”

The comment appeared to lighten him up a bit, and Simon's lips stretched to the sides slightly in a shy smile. 

“You're not angry?”  
“I had guessed most of it.” Kieren shrugged and looked at him. He was obviously still annoyed about it but he was sick and tired of losing loved ones, and he didn't want to lose Simon when he had barely said goodbye to Amy. However, Simon still looked unsure, and Kieren reached his hand out and squeezed it softly before guiding it towards his own face. That seemed to take effect as the Irishman stared as his own hand cupping the younger man's cheek and caressed it with his thumb. PDS sufferers had barely any sense of touch, they could feel different levels of pressure, little else. Kieren could barely feel it and yet that was the kind of things one did to prove someone you were there if they needed you, then closed the distance with a soft kiss. Simon had never stopped him before, he didn't stop him that time. “Come on.” He said then. “I want to sleep. You can use my neurotriptyline tomorrow.”

They headed back holding hands, less focused on the surroundings.

“Are you going back to the Giving Back Scheme?”

Simon chuckled and shrugged. The ULA wouldn't welcome him back with open arms whether he wanted it or not, he was out, he'd violated a direct order.

“Well, I guess being there will make me look less like a ULA member.”  
“You'll be easier to find, too.”  
“That's true, but they would anyways, Roarton is not that big.” He observed while they left the open field behind and went back to the pavement. It started to snow once they turned the street, then the continued in silence for a few minutes. “You know, I'm still astonished with your resistance to Blue Oblivion. Can you remember anything?”  
“Have you used it before?”  
“Yes, once, at the commune. Nothing happened, no living around, don't remember much. You?”

Kieren sighed. 

“I tried to tie myself up to Vicar Oddie's grave's bars and I heard a noise after that. For a moment it was like the Rising. I think I almost forgot everything that had happened after then.” He mumbled, pensive. “But I could feel it inside.”  
“What thing?”  
“The hunger. The freedom. The lack of fear.”

The younger one noticed Simon's pale eyes fixed on him, but he ignored it. He'd hated every second of that feeling as much as he'd loved it, he'd missed it. The complete and absolute freedom, having just a purpose at a time, to kill and to feed, to contemplate the rain falling around him, the raindrops splashing down on leaves in the forest, to stand in awe before that peace of mind, that lack of voices in his head. Freedom. 

That freedom, however, meant death, and that gave him nightmares.

“I remember my father.” He continued. “I remember hearing him say he loved me no matter what, and a part of me wanted to tear him apart.” The idea horrified him. “It would have been so easy to give in... But I couldn't have been able to live with it, and I fought. I told you before, I don't want to hurt anyone.”

Simon wondered how much did Kieren remember of his unmedicated state. Simon barely remembered some fragments that could either be real or a figment of his imagination after listening to so many experiences of the Rising. He would often think the fact he couldn't remember his victims' faces was a blessing. The Undead that were still standing had been fortunate, but that meant they'd left a bloody trail behind. 

Kieren fished the keys out of his pocket while he approached the door, and Simon hesitated.

“Are you sure?”

Kieren just rolled his eyes and pulled him inside.

*

The door opened suddenly and Kieren jumped, disoriented, looking for the responsible one. Jemima was still holding the doorknob, waiting for a clue of him being awake enough to hear what she had to say. 

“You need to see this. Quick.” Kieren sat up, and it was then when he noticed Simon was also sitting on the bed with the same expression of sleep and worry on his face. “Hurry up!” She insisted, irritated.

Steve and Sue were sitting on the sofa in front of the tv, and they glanced at them once they got there, concern on their faces. On the screen, Jeff Budgen, a Victus MP, spoke before the cameras. They seemed to have skipped the first part, but a news ticker told them what they missed. They were talking about Maxine Martin. 

“-As I already said, Miss Martin has been hospitalized under serious conditions after the attack of a ULA terrorist yesterday during the Commemoration of the beginning of the Pale Wars. The attacker has been identified as Amy Dyer, whose mission was what the ULA has called Second Rising. Fortunately, Maxine defended herself and managed to overpower the terrorist cell in Roarton. Some of these... individuals, took Blue Oblivion to attack the population, but fortunately the people of Roarton knew how to defend themselves from the threat. This incident adds up to many others that lead us to stress, once again, on the development of new laws that protect humans. These events must not remain unpunished and a record of every PDS suffered must be kept with their respective real time monito-”

Steve turned the tv off, and shrugged after noticing everybody's eyes fixed on him.

“Who wants to watch a film?”  
“Dad!” Jemima complained.  
“Everybody saw that, they can't let this be the official statement.” He heard his mother say.

Kieren stopped listening, sounds became a background noise, as if they were filtered through a tunnel. Amy, a fanatic, a terrorist. They couldn't do that. Amy was innocent. Amy had been murdered. They couldn't brand her as a murderer, when she was probably the best person in all Roarton. Too good for this world, someone would say. The ULA now had a face that didn't match reality, and that got him angry. Kieren wished the world really saw them, more scared than the others, locked inside bodies that would never change because they were dead. PDS children would never grow up, he'd never grow grey hair. Eternally stuck.

“Kieren!” His sister's voice brought him back to reality and he realised everybody was staring at him, concerned. Simon was holding him and his father was looking at him, pale and worried. 

He gasped at the sudden feeling of the neurotriptyline injection spreading down his spine and he squeezed his eyes shut. Those doses were the worst part of the day, they brought bad memories. He clung to something, gritting his teeth for a moment, and waited. His body could barely feel it, but neurotriptyline burned through his spine like alcohol on an open wound, and he still managed to let go. Once he opened his eyes, after a long while, he realised he was leaning on Simon's shoulder, and his father was in his field of vision. 

“You alright, son?” He heard him ask. Kieren nodded meekly. “You were disoriented and shaking. Late for your dose, you see. I'll make you a cuppa, it'll settle you.” He decided, not knowing what else to do.  
“Sue, could I have the neurotriptyline syringe? I also need to use it, if you don't mind.” Kieren heard Simon's voice reverberating in his chest and his mother moving close to leave the device on the coffee table before leaving to the kitchen, then let them move him to the sofa where he sat down. He watched Simon reach his own neck and feel his way to the hole to self inject himself with the drug, exhaling air before giving Sue the syringe back with a grateful smile while she was returning with steaming cups of tea on a tray. Kieren looked at Jem, then, who was still staring at him.

“I'm not changing.” He smiled softly and saw how his sister relaxed. She approached and sat by his side. She'd seen them coming the night before, waited for her brother, standing on the landing, to make sure he returned safe and sound and didn't make any comments about Simon following him, holding hands.  
“What is going to happen now?” She asked. Kieren sighed.  
“I don't know, I don't like it.”  
“We'll tell the truth. We'll say Amy did nothing wrong and that Maxine killed her. Everybody saw her covered in blood and out of her mind. This isn't right.”  
“Jem, do you think they'd believe us?” Kieren asked, tired. “I have my doubts. They wouldn't listen to me because of what I am, and you lot would be dismissed for PDS- sympathisers. You've seen the ads on the telly” He huffed. “We're nothing but monsters with bad intentions.”

Jem took one of the cups from the tray and held it carefully in her hands. She had recently started seeing PDS as something else than rotters. A rotter's a rotter, drugs or no drugs, they used to say at HVF, and she'd taken it literally. In her mind all rotters were evil but her brother, her brother was easily influenced and frail, according to her, or he used to be. After the past few months, Jem had started to see a different, less broken Kieren, and that new strenght had scared her as she couldn't recognize her brother to start seeing the bloodthirsty monster that all rotters were. However, he was still the same Kieren that doodled while listening to The Cure when he was sulking, that wouldn't leave the house without his Doc Martens and that everybody mocked because of the length of his eyelashes. If she compared Rob, taking Blue Oblivion at high school in order to be popular, to Kieren, she could see this new strenght and inherent kindness. Sometimes she wondered if he recognized her, years before in that supermarket. She wasn't so sure anymore about the answer. PDS sufferers weren't responsible of what they had to go through, same as the living weren't to blame for their reaction. Back then, nobody could have imagined a couple years later someone would have found a solution to the problem. They would have saved a great deal of nightmares. 

Simon sat by Kieren's other side, staring curiously at the tray. There were another three steaming cups, and he looked at the siblings with confusion. Sue explained first.

“It's hot water. In case you want...” She trailed off. Maybe it sounded stupid, but Simon smiled at her and thanked her for his cup. The ceramic container felt oddly warm on the tips of his fingers and he assumed the temperature was actually much more higher. It was ridiculous to act as if he was alive and pretend with a cup in his hands, but somehow it made him feel better. It was more than likely Sue's intentions, to make him feel welcomed. 

Steve came back from the kitchen and grabbed one of the remaining mugs to sit and give it a sip. He was a quiet man, although Simon could see through him. He reminded him of his own father, a man of few words with a busy mind.

“So, Simon, where are you staying? Kieren said something about Amy leaving you the bungalow. Are you keeping it?”

Simon tilted his head in some sort of nodding, the bungalow was actually Kieren's and his now. 

“I guess. I don't have anywhere else to stay, anyways.”  
“You're welcome in this house as long as you want. But I'd change the set of keys if I were you. I can help you if you want, I have a good toolbox, and also a thing or two you can use for protection. You never know when a thief can break in and security alarms are expensive. 

Kieren had been observing them and he decided to take the last mug. He pictured himself drinking. He missed tea, especially Earl Grey. He focused on the warmth of the mug while he paid little attention to the conversation, focusing more on his father and Simon; Steve seemed really interested in helping, nonetheless, knowing Simon had saved his life. Kieren was aware his family knew about them, it's not like they had been not too obvious the day he came for dinner, and Simon's joke hadn't really helped at all. He assumed they had known long before, after Rick died the first time and he killed himself. More than once he'd wondered if anyone had read Rick's letters, kept in the box under his bed. It didn't matter, nobody had said anything because nobody worried about that, Kieren was still Kieren, and he was now concious of what really mattered, that they were still united and they accepted each other the way they were. It was also obvious his family accepted Simon in. It wasn't gratefulness, it was a promise. If you're a part of Kieren, you're a part of the family.

On the other side, Simon didn't seem to notice it, and he kept refusing the help slightly embarrassed, as if it was hard to say no. The Irish and their ways, Kieren thought with a smile. Simon was probably thinking they were just trying to be nice.

Simon had never hidden himself. Kieren didn't know if he'd kept his sexual orientation to himself before dying, but he guessed death changed many things for a lot of people, especially the ones that came back. Kieren had stopped being afraid the whole time, he'd started to accept himself. It had taken him a while, dying and all, but he finally felt free. Roarton and its gossips meant nothing. Roarton was his home, where his family lived, and a couple evil-minded comments didn't have the weight they would have had a few years before.

Simon turned to look at him with a soft smile and Kieren replied with another one while Steve seemed to have decided on his one they all wanted to watch Blade Runner and he looked through his collection.

“Kier, could you two go visit Philip later? Shirley told me she had to give him sleeping pills, bless him.” Sue sighed, leaning on the kitchen's doorframe. It had been so traumathic, the whole town was troubled by the news, even it it was more because of Maxine's, losing her mind, rather than Amy's death; but after the incident no one remained indifferent.

Simon nodded solemnly, same as Kieren, who knew very well what it was to have the person you loved be taken away, better than anyone. He had to go through that twice, nonetheless. Life lost all its colour the first time, the world became something too difficult and strange to deal with by himself. The second time had been as horrible as the first but, oddly, less painful, as if after the first blow he was still numb. Philip and Kieren had been friends before, and if Philip wanted to they could be friends again. They needed to work together to get over Amy's death. It was ridiculous to think so as evidence had proved him that there was no afterlife, unless by that you meant rising from the grave to eat people, but he liked to think there was something else, a Heaven, where good people like Amy could rest in peace. 

At the middle of the movie Sue left to get lunch ready and Steve picked the mugs after promising a refill later, while they kept looking at the screen. Jem was still sitting by Kieren's right side, curled up under a blanket, Simon by his left, their hands barely entwined. Kieren could hear the radio's soft murmur in the kitchen, Sue had it always on while she cooked as a way to stay tuned with the world. Once lunch was ready at the end of the movie, they all sat at the table, Simon and Kieren included. There weren't any plates for them but an invitation in his mother's eyes: lunchtime was not only to eat, it was family time. 

“I've taken a decision.” She announced while she served salad, looking at them with a smile and focusing on Simon at the end. “We will celebrate Christmas, all of us. You're going to stay here until Steve checks all doors and windows in the bungalow and we make sure it's safe.” Before the man protested, she continued. “Do it for my own peace of mind, if you must. You don't need to explain anything, but correct me if I'm wrong when I think a boy like you shouldn't be living alone right now, not with the ULA or Victus or what's left of the HVF around.” Simon didn't even nod, instead he looked down at the table. “It's settled, and it would be very rude of you to do otherwise. You don't need to worry about neurotriptyline either, we'll handle that.”

Simon couldn't find the words to reply. He saw Steve nodding and Jem looking at him from the corner of her eye while Kieren was trying to hide a grin behind his glass of water. They could probably see his embarrassment. 

“Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Walker.” He muttered, and the conversation led to something else lighter.

*

They had looked everywhere. The books, under the jars, flowerpots, all his things, in the drawers. She'd also checked in the other room, but besides odd clothes she hadn't found anything rather than normal. There weren't even prepaid phones in the house. 

Irritated, she pulled up the duvets from the beds, tore the mattresses, looked under and in the cushions of the sofa, moved furniture, paintings on the walls and threw the books to the floor. There wasn't any clues of what she was looking for. Reaching the limits of her patience, she found the jar of homemade neurotriptyline in the fridge and then smashed it on the floor. He had it coming.

A phone did ring, though, Brian's, who was still watching her do her thing with a calmness she couldn't understand. He gave her a sign for her to follow him while he kept whispering on the phone, then walked out of the house after hanging up.

“His name is Julian. Simon gave him our contact numbers to the other communes before stabbing us all in the back. The Prophet is looking for a new disciple and he'll get in contact with us soon.”

Zoe smiled.


End file.
